Richland Center, Wisconsin
PUBLICATIONS:
Various.
Who was that dark-haired
Diminutive guide
Who led us down alley and aisle?
We trailed her angelic
white cape as
We would a beacon, Followed
Her every gesture.
What was the name of that
Sainte of virginal memory
Who gave her finger to God?
The digit we saw in the glass case
In that chapel in Roma, Forever
Thumbing its way to heaven.
Remember that beautiful
Gypsy woman who sat on the steps
Outside the church?
The one who held her swaddled infant
In postpartum pretense, As she
Looked up, her hand held out to us
The voice that she used to call
For alms, The most mournful sound
That anyone could ever bear.